


K A T H A R O S

by MarySeph



Series: Eyes And Lies [2]
Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: Christian Themes, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eyes And Lies spin-off, M/M, Multi, Reconciliation, Romance, because Kiyoshi deserves it, one-sided romance, short-story - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarySeph/pseuds/MarySeph
Summary: What is a man without a dream? Ryuugamine Kiyoshi's journey from an average student at Teikoku with a broken dream to Teikoku's spy.Eyes And Lies Spin-off.





	1. The Forbidden Fruit

The classroom burst into life as soon as the teacher left with the bell's ring. Kiyoshi's classmates stood up, calling out to their friends and promptly leaving.

Kiyoshi observed the usual group from the corner of his glasses, peeking over the top of his folded arms. Their laughter rang in his ears like a sharp knife. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance and growled quietly.

The most popular group in their grade had this distinct aura of power and entitlement. It was like they owned the room, and everyone else was peasants whom they could trample. They were a reminder getting friends wasn't worth the price. Pretending, lying, and putting up appearances in exchange for acceptance to flock in groups. He had enough of that. It wasn't worth going against who he is for the sake of others. They didn't care about him. They rejected and mocked him. Everyone will eventually hate him, so it was stupid to put the effort. No matter how much he tried, he will be rejected, because he's different. People hate what's different.

He took a string of his blonde hair, smooth and shiny against the sun. Foreign features. He would prefer dying rather than change his appearance to be accepted by others. He won't make the same mistake again.

The group's laughter boomed against the walls, making Kiyoshi jolt in his seat. Bringing back his attention to them, he caught a green-haired guy with a notable thin side braid flinching from the sudden outburst as well. It was apparent to Kiyoshi he was uncomfortable, faking a laugh around the group he seemed to cling desperately.

Kiyoshi was better off alone. It was better than being like that guy, a fake.

He gritted his teeth, nails digging into his palms as well.

"Hey, he's looking at us again," a girl whispered, her eyes noticing his downcast figure.

Seven pairs of eyes, including the side braid guy, turned to stare at him. Eyes observing their juicy prey, thirsty for blood.

Kiyoshi took his lunch dashed off his seat, keeping his gaze down.

As he was about to leave, he bumped into someone and staggered back.

"Hey." Kiyoshi flinched at the warm touch on his shoulder, swiftly slapping the hand away.

"Don't touch me!" He gasped as his voice echoed, bringing all the eyes from the remaining students in the class to him alone.

They glared with disgust, suspicious murmurs flying all around. "It's the weirdo. What is he doing?"

Panic pulsed through Kiyoshi's veins. His breathing quickened, vision pulsing in unison. He had to get out, but his legs were glued to the ground. Tears began to form in his eyes as Kiyoshi saw no escape. The surroundings were losing clarity, his body saturated with terror.

"Ryuugamine-senpai." A steel voice cut through the atmosphere. Breath caught in his throat, Kiyoshi turned his eyes to the familiar voice. Yet it couldn't be him.

Kidou Yuuto stood outside the classroom. Formidable and serious as ever, he excluded a commanding aura that stalled his surroundings. One by one, the others resumed their activities as per the boy's command.

"Follow me." The boy turned and walked down the hall without looking back.

Kiyoshi took a deep breath and exhaled before following meekly, half in a daze and half in disbelief. His head spun, but at least he could move.

It's Kidou-san. It's really Kidou-san! They hadn't been this close since the tryouts. He would have never thought they would encounter face to face again.

Ah, but why did he come? Kiyoshi gazed at Kidou-san's back-- how badly he wanted to wrap his arms around the boy's pre-pubescent shoulders--then glanced around as they descended the stairs and left the building. He could only let out a string of incoherent noises, trying to catch the boy's attention.

The boy turned around a corner and leaned against the wall. "The Commander wants to speak with you after school."

"The Comm-mmander?! Y-you mean the Coach?" Kiyoshi felt his face heat up, embarrassment spiking at his dumb reply. He awkwardly brought a hand to his neck.

"Yeah."

"Why. . .?" he asked innocently after a moment. His lips twisted into a grimace, remembering how the Coach told him he had no talent or place in Teikoku's varsity team. It was a waste of time, and he should focus on next year's exams. Kiyoshi glared down. What did he want from him?

"He will be waiting in his office. Just enter and announce yourself." Kidou-san detached from the wall and began to walk away.

"Ah-" Kiyoshi extended his hand towards the boy's leaving figure.

Kidou-san stopped, turning half-way. "Do you need something?" he asked in an aloof manner.

Kiyoshi looked down, pulling the corner of his sleeve. "Ah, no, I'm sorry."

". . . I trust you know to take chances when presented to you, Ryuugamine-senpai." Kidou-san left with those cryptic words.

Kiyoshi's hand fell limp. So much for a chance to talk with his idol. He was an idiot. There was no way he remembered, and they weren't that close in the first place.

"But. . . what does the Coach want?" He muttered.

This couldn't end well. Something wasn't right. He wasn't needed so why call him?

Anyway, if he wanted to know, he would have to go.

Kiyoshi spent the rest of the day glancing at his watch every few minutes. Time was passing slow.

He hugged his churning stomach. The thought of being under the Coach's overbearing presence escalated his anxiety. To distract himself from the pain, he paid attention to the ongoing lecture.

"The Bible says Adam and Eve lived in the Garden of Eden where they didn't need anything. Water, shelter, and food were abundant," the teacher explained.

Paradise, the Garden of Eden, the setting of the Genesis book. He sighed. How useless.

". . . But then Eve was tempted by the snake to take the fruit from one of the trees, promising the wisdom of good and evil, and gave it to Adam after having a taste."

However, God had previously warned them to not eat it, otherwise, they would die. Disobeying their creator after that harsh statement seemed stupid. Was it because of curiosity, rebelliousness, or pure naïvety?

He laid down his head on top of his arms, gazing at the teacher lazily.

He had already given up. He was only a vague existence drifting around the world without a purpose. Nothing mattered anymore.

Wasn't he like Adam and Eve? At Teikoku, he didn't have much to worry except schoolwork. Just follow one step behind the crowd, doing his own thing. Yeah, Teikoku was his Paradise. No one spoke to him, no one bothered him. He didn't need anyone.

A pure heart is one that doesn't lie. If making friends meant lying, then he preferred to be alone. If he remained pure until the end, he would see God and could ask him why so much tragedy fell on him. Why did his parent's divorce? Why was he bullied? Why did people keep using him? Why was his life so shitty? There was no escape and nothing will change. Only the truth would let him rest in peace.

_"I trust you know to take chances when presented to you, Ryuugamine-senpai."_

As if the Coach would give him another opportunity.

The last bell rang like the signal to his execution. Kiyoshi gripped the strings of his bag as he walked towards the Coach's office, gaze lowered.

In front of the Coach, fear planted his eyes on the floor. The familiarity surprised and scared him.

The serpent dressed in magenta whispered sweet temptations, hanging his dream at the reach of his hand. A chance to enter the reserve team if you spy on Kidokawa.

Kiyoshi lifted his eyes slightly. The red fruit of hope was tempting. He stretched out his hand in a daze, but stopped short for a moment. . . .Something was strange.

_"I trust you know to take chances when presented to you, Ryuugamine-senpai."_

What was wrong about following his dream? It was everything he had left, the last thing that brought him raw bliss. His life was dull and miserable. He had already lost his pride, love, and integrity, stripped naked from head to toe.

Kiyoshi snatched the apple and bit it. Falling out of God's grace, he would be thrown out of the Eden to crawl the barren land of men for scraps. There was no turning back.


	2. Piercing The Clouds Part 1

Like every other morning, Kiyoshi waked groggily. The world looked hazy and lackluster and his temple throbbed with a dull pain. Right, he had cried himself to sleep. The thought of being used still weighted on his heart. Even if he had gotten used to the monotony as far as giving up in almost every aspect of his life, a diminute fraction wished for some extraordinary event to turn it around, and the Coach had done a splendid job with that.

"Kidokawa Seishuu. . ." He said slowly. The reality hadn't sunk.

Kiyoshi got out of bed after a psychological battle, sniffed, and cleaned his cheeks stained with tears. He pet the white bunny plushie. "I don't want to be used," he said in a quiet voice that got lost in the stillness of his room. He had been played, completely and cleanly. His love for soccer was used against him, and an all too familiar feeling made him break into tears.

People were filthy.

He returned to his room after breakfast and, still in his pajamas, threw himself back to the bed. He could sleep for a couple of hours and do some homework, then leave towards the library to check if Summer, Fireworks, and My Corpse had been returned. But he wasn't in a hurry. His body was heavy, the little strength he mustered was to turn himself around.

Staring at the ceiling, he replayed his conversation with the Coach. The Football Frontier was in a couple of weeks. Sending a spy meant the info he wanted from Kidokawa Seishuu was important. Teikoku had been champion for forty years so maybe something in Kidokawa's team threatens that record. But he couldn't be sure.

Before the worries of yesterday crashed on him, he shot up from the bed at a loud noise, eyes landing on the vibrating cell phone on his desk. His mother was downstairs so she couldn't be the one on the other side of the line. But wrong numbers were common from time to time.

He placed the phone carefully in his ear, hugging the plushie for reassurance. "H-Hello," his voice slipped out with unjustified suspicion.

"Hey, Kiyoshi, it's Keima. We are meeting with the usual group near the station in a couple of hours. Do you want to come?"

His body tensed, a sense of nostalgia washing over him. It was Keima. His smile faded when he remembered last year's event. But he didn't find a legitimate reason to refuse apart from a guilty conscience and postponed his plans for the afternoon.

". . .S-Sure."

"Great! See you there!" The line cut and the silence set awkwardly. Kiyoshi was conflicted with his decision. Keima, Kirishima Keima. He had pushed him aside because it was the right thing to do. His sadness had caused him to break up with his girlfriend, and he couldn't afford someone he cared about to keep suffering because of him. If Keima was by his side, he would only keep hurting him. But he was happy Keima reached out after so long.

Kiyoshi hugged his knees with heavy shoulders and sighed. He really wanted to see him.

He went to the bathroom and washed his face thoroughly. His eyes were a little red in the corners and his face was pale but otherwise, he looked fine enough. If only he could smile like he used to.

He left the house half an hour later in his usual attire. A pair of jeans and sneakers, and a sweater on top. He decided against the cap and made his way to the station.

Arriving at their meeting place with a million worries and a heavy stomach, his eyes darted around the shop until they set on a young group.

"Kiyoshi!" His friend called out. The corners of his lips curled up. He greeted the group shyly and sat beside his friend. His hands were clammy and his face was hot. He had to calm himself down before he said something stupid.

After the table filled, the conversation got livelier. Kiyoshi cracked a small smile every now and then, sometimes adding a comment to the topic. When the conversation shifted to the most recent news in the soccer world, in particular, last year's Football Frontier, that Kiyoshi felt at home.

Like him, his teammates had their eyes on Kidou Yuuto, current captain and playmaker of Teikoku--although it may be an exaggeration. They were commenting on the first year's plays and tactics while Kiyoshi listened with excitement, remembering the times he observed the midfielder kicking the ball expertly as if he could see every movement without looking. Anyway, Kidou and Teikoku Gakuen were a favorite. Naturally, his teammates asked if he knew him. Kiyoshi tried to explain Kidou-san's style without looking like a creep. From there, the mood rose.

However, even if Keima was at his side, he couldn't work up the courage or find the right moment to talk to him. Kiyoshi blocked the boy's face with his hair, jumping at every of his sudden movements.

Hours passed, and his former teammates left one by one.

"I'll be going too," Itsuki, one of Keima's friends, said.

"Me too." Keima stood up simultaneously. "What will you do, Kiyoshi?"

"Ah-um. . . I'll go." He didn't want to be left alone when the place was getting busier. Keima nodded and the three left the building.

He parted with the boy, then looked at Keima from the corner of his eye. Their houses were about in the same direction. He couldn't ignore him or run away.

"Let's go." Keima smiled and started walking. Kiyoshi followed silently, unsure if he should say something, apologize, or panic. He was tempted to speak, but he was tongue-tied.

"It was fun," Keima said casually after they crossed the road. "I didn't know you knew so much about Kidou Yuuto."

"Y-Yeah." Well, shit, it was obvious he was nervous. Kiyoshi wanted to facepalm. Taking a deep breath, he focused on his breathing and exhaled. "I saw him practice."

The other part of him that longed for company was calm. Kiyoshi was also happy, more than he had been the past year. He cared for everyone in the team, and they had cared for him when he needed others the most despite the jerk he was. But more than them, it was Keima that he missed the most, the one that pulled him around and took initiative for the fun things they did together. Perhaps being with someone that makes you happy is worth the pain the sides cause to each other. A year ago, he had betrayed his own words and it was worth it. But he changed his mind when he accepted coming here.

"A real friendship is one that allows people to hurt each other."

"Ah, I remember that!"

Kiyoshi jumped, his cheeks taking a red tint. He didn't intend to say that aloud. "I was remembering what I said back then," he said, looking away.

"I don't think you are wrong," Keima said softly. "People hurt each without meaning to."

Kiyoshi met his eyes. Those jade green eyes that gently gazed back warmed his insides. Keima didn't blame him, neither was he angry. He _never_ blamed him. This wasn't a surprise, but because of that, Kiyoshi felt he had to be blamed and be angry at. So if Keima didn't do it, he did. He hated himself more than anyone else, so it was easy.

Kiyoshi looked down. ". . . I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have pushed you away."

He found Keima smiling when he lifted his head. "I should apologize too. I wasn't the best friend."

Kiyoshi shook his head. "You couldn't help it. I was being an idiot."

". . . I want to ask you to forgive me." Keima lowered his head, hinting he was apologizing because of him. "I understand if you don't."

The words took him by surprise. It seemed there was another meaning behind them. Sure, their relationship had their downs, but Keima's voice sounded more apologetic than it should.

His friend dug his hands into his pockets, and his masculine features scrunched. "I depended too much on you. When you weren't with me I was weak. I realized how much you meant in my life after I lost you." His voice hardened. "I don't want to see you as Kin anymore. You are my best friend, Ryuugamine Kiyoshi. I won't treat you like a kid anymore."

His mind went black, surprised at his friend's change in attitude and solemn tone. Kiyoshi wasn't sure if he was apologizing for seeing him as Kin's replacement--the weak one Keima would always protect--but if he hadn't been fine, they wouldn't be friends in the first place. However, as the weak one, he had noticed too, yesterday's events invading his mind. Without Keima he was even weaker, easy to control when threatened. His friend had changed and Kiyoshi felt he was being left behind. "Thanks," he said sadly, accepting the apology.

Keima shot a smile of relief, his shoulders shifting to a confident posture. "So. . . how's Teikoku? Did you make it?"

Kiyoshi heard his teeth grit, the wounds he tried to forget starting to ache. ". . . No." And now he was ordered to spy on another team if he wants a chance to play for Teikoku. He brought his eyes back when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Are you going to try again?" Keima asked with concern.

". . . Yeah." His voice sounded lower than usual. No matter how much Kiyoshi shook his head, the cloud over him didn't seem to dissipate. Moreover, he was angry at himself and Keima who salted the scar. There was a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn't keep either promise to himself.


	3. Piercing The Clouds Part 2

"What should we do?" Keima asked after some time.

Kiyoshi shrugged after pondering. There really was nowhere he wanted to go today.

". . . It has to be soccer," Keima said with a rare hint of embarrassment, unfit for his outgoing personality.

Kiyoshi agreed. Nothing would be better to play soccer on the day they finally made up.

Keima grinned happily. "I'll get the ball from my house."

"Sure." He then added a moment later, "How's Hachi-dan?"

"He's fine. Playful as always."

Kiyoshi nodded. He was mildly excited to see Keima's dog. It was big and shiny, golden fur covering his whole body. He was battery that never ran out of power.

Suddenly, Keima started sprinting, turning around as he shone a challenging grin at him. "A race! Loser buys ice cream!"

Kiyoshi's eyes widen, the familiar words crepping a grin on his face as his heart rumbled like a machine before dashing after him.

They passed familiar shops, entered the residential district, and went up the streets, Keima's grey jacket always in sight. After a few sharp turns and jumps to avoid innocent pedestrians, their paths diverged when they took different routes.

Kiyoshi leaned on a wall as he gasped for air like a fish out of the water, sweat dripping to the ground. His muscles screamed from the lengthy sprint; he had pushed himself too far. But his mind had cleared up. His heart beat on his ears and he let out a weak, amused chuckle.

"I. . . really haven't. . . trained at all." Back then, this distance was nothing. If Keima, who probably still played soccer, proposed a race, then he shouldn't have stopped.

"I. . . lost." Kiyoshi gave the verdict. He took another breath and pushed himself forward with tired steps, eventually reaching a duplex with a nameplate labeled 'Kirishima'.

"Took you long, where did you go?" Keima asked at the entrance. Kiyoshi flinched at the strength of Keima's inquisitive words his natural voice carried.

Ah, it was these little things that made him uncomfortable. His brain was starting to remember the shame. A hand seemed to wrap around his heart and squeeze it hard. Kiyoshi looked down, his bangs hiding his face. "S-Sorry, I got tired."

"I got the ball. Hachi-dan is over there." Kiyoshi lifted his head to see Keima point to the left, soccer ball under the other arm. He nodded, striding to the side of the house while evading Keima's curious gaze.

When he turned the corner, a golden furball assaulted him, loud whimpers booming in his ears. Kiyoshi laughed and pet the dog, bending on his knees to eye-level and continue his petting strike.

Keima chuckled beside him. "He remembers you."

A happy sound escaped from Kiyoshi's lips as Hachi-dan licked his face. "You are so cute, Hachi-dan!" He rubbed the dog's neck with closed eyes.

Hachi-dan's positive energy seeped into him, and Kiyoshi grinned with joy. The skies in his heart cleared completely, not a cloud in sight, and he pulled the dog in a tight embrace.

"I missed you," his voice cracked.

"Hey, hey, more than me?" Keima asked slightly sing-song. At some point, he had taken a spot on the small porch.

"Of course I missed you too, Keima." His lips trembled as tears flooded his eyes. "I missed you a lot."

"Me too," Keima admitted boldly, gentle eyes filled with happiness and longing. "Yoshii."

Kiyoshi blushed at the unexpected mention of his nickname. "Uhn." He looked down. "Ke-i."

He felt a bump on his arm, finding Hachi-dan offering a toy for him to throw.

"Aw, I really want to play with you, Hachi-dan, but I'm going to play soccer with Keima." Kiyoshi scratched behind the doggy's fluffy ear. His heart ached at Hachi-dan's expectant expression. It had been so long since they last meet. But he already promised Keima.

Keima teased, "Kiyoshi's mine for today, too bad~"

Kiyoshi's blush deepened and his stomach warmed up. Petting the dog, he tried to hide the evidence of his embarrassment from the cause.

Keima got up and stretched. "Right, I'm going to change. There's something I want to show you in the field. You can wait in the living room if you want, Mom's there." He left with a challenging grin, leaving Kiyoshi confused.

"What could it be, Hachidan?" he asked the dog without expecting an answer. The dog stared back at him, pink tongue drooling on his knee, perhaps waiting for the ball to be thrown.

Kiyoshi sighed lightly and took the toy. "Okay, just for a bit." He bounced the ball a few meters down the porch.

Hachidan caught it as soon as it lifted on the air and strode back with confident steps.

"That's great!" He ruffled the dog's head and threw the ball a few times, each caught swiftly.

At the fourth throw, Kiyoshi's tone lowered to an apology when he received the toy back. "I have to go say hi to Keima's mom. But I'll try to come again." He stood up and gave one last longing look at Hachidan, doubling to the main entrance. But he stopped, walked back, hugged the dog, and kissed its cheek.

"Thank you."

***

"Hello. . ." Kiyoshi greeted quietly, closing the door with a dry click. He lined up his shoes on one side. There was Keima's shoes from today and a pair that seem to belong to a female's. Keima was an only child, so they had to be his mother's.

He peeked inside the joint living room and kitchen, a standard model, the bright room filling him with a sense of awe.

Really, the contrast between their houses reflected their environments. Kiyoshi's was cold and unwelcoming while Keima's was bright and cozy; he still preferred the latter's.

Hachi-san gazed at him from behind the glass on the other side, paws on the porch. Kiyoshi waved.

"Ah! Kiyoshi-kun, hello." A woman greeted him with a smile.

"Ah-sorry for interrupting." He bowed quickly.

"Keima told me you were coming inside. Take a seat, I'll make some tea."

Kiyoshi waved dismissively, accepting a chair at the dining table. "It's okay, I'll be leaving when he comes down." He added, "Thank you."

"Tell me if you need something," she said, her friendly tone unwavering. She resumed drying the dishes and placing them in the cupboard.

Kiyoshi relaxed at the sign of the end of the conversation. He liked her, she was nice and kind, but he couldn't hold a conversation for long. He could see where Keima got his amiable demeanor.

"How is school? You are in Teikoku, right?"

Kiyoshi tensed and scrambled for a decent answer. "I-I-It's demanding, a lot." He chuckled awkwardly.

The woman turned around, drying cloth in hand. "Sayuri-san told me you quit soccer, what will you do now?" At the mention of his mother's name, Kiyoshi's mood plummed, dark clouds hovering over him again. He heard a small gasp, and the woman softened her smile. "You always loved soccer. I found it hard to believe. But I see you haven't given up."

Kiyoshi nodded. "I haven't given up," he answered politely.

"That's good. Keima looked really excited to play with you. Believing everything Sayuri says is a bad habit of mine, good luck, Kiyoshi-kun."

"Thank you." He was truly grateful for her care and concern. She knew the state of his family and somehow became friendly with her mother. She had also seen him in his worst days, helping him from the sidelines with small gestures of affection that had gone unappreciated until now. After all, a futon couldn't have appeared out of nowhere, his mother wouldn't have given him permission to stay the night outside, and a meal wouldn't have been prepared for him on its own after a warm bath. He leaned his chin on his open palm, covering his trembling lips. It was impossible she saw him as a replacement for her son, so he wanted to believe, no matter how similar their personalities had been back then. Adults weren't that selfless with a child of another.


	4. Piercing The Clouds Part 3

"Let's go!" Kiyoshi shot up and blinked away the tears, waving a short goodbye to Keima's mom and following Keima out.

Back to the main road, Kiyoshi asked, "What do you want to show me?"

"You'll see," Keima teased.

". . . Is it," Kiyoshi thought ". . .a new hissatsu?" Keima sighed. Kiyoshi was right. "Is it a shoot, dribble, block?" Kiyoshi jumped, looking into Keima's eyes for another hint.

Keima grinned proudly, bobbling the ball up and down. "It's a shoot."

He looked at Keima in amazement, his eyes bright like stars. "I'm sure it's amazing!"

"Hehe, of course, it is." Keima's shoulders widened with pride. If Kiyoshi didn't know better, he would think Keima missed being admired. Well, Kiyoshi liked his flashy hissatsus, that was all. Not like he would say it out loud.

The two eventually reached the park and settled on one side of the pitch. Kiyoshi gave a quick look to the benches, playground, and the trees. There weren't that many people. Good. No one to worry of getting hurt.

Kiyoshi and Keima warmed up individually, then played a few rounds of short and long passes. Half an hour later, Kiyoshi stood before one of the goals, Keima a few feet apart with the ball under his foot.

"Hit me!" Kiyoshi gave the sign that started the match.

Keima dribbled--so far it seemed his style hadn't changed much--a challenging grin splitting his face.

Kiyoshi's heart started to beat faster. Keima didn't hold back, and he couldn't ask for more. They had faced each other countless times for any reason, learning each other's tricks to the last twitch of a muscle. Even if Kiyoshi was at a physical disadvantage, his grin rivaled Keima as his blood vessels filled with adrenaline.

But before he entered his attack zone, a rail appeared in front of him and the ball took a blue hue.

"Three-hundred-sixty vault."

Before Kiyoshi could react, the realization he was witnessing a hissatsu settling, Keima resumed dribbling behind him.

"You jerk!" Kiyoshi laughed, sprinting to catch up.

Keima snorted with a back glance. "You and I know I can't beat you on a one-on-one."

Kiyoshi chuckled sharply. "Face me seriously!"

He turned. "Is that a challenge?!"

Kiyoshi quicked his pace, dust lifting behind him and the fight for the ball began.

If there was something Keima couldn't match with, was Kiyoshi's body coordination. He could foreshadow his friend's movements, even if they were slightly different from what he remembered, and shift his body accordingly, like a cat falling from a high building.

The fight ended when Kiyoshi kicked the ball with his heel and out of bounds.

"Che."

Kiyoshi chuckled at Keima's reaction and kicked the ball back to him. "Show me the shoot."

Keima caught it with his chest, smoothly letting the ball fall to his foot. "Don't get too surprised." He kicked the ball up and again before it fell. Following shortly, he twisted his body before slamming the ball with his sole.

"Curtana!"

The ball entered the goal with a sharp sound of clashing metal, with strength and speed Kiyoshi rarely witnessed. Kiyoshi's eyes narrowed slightly. His unfinished hissatsu would be able to stop him the moment before he jumped, otherwise, it was his loss.

"Oh!" Kiyoshi perked up, "It's great."

Keima threw his head back. "Do you know about Curtana?" He answered after Kiyoshi shook his head, "It's known as the Sword of Mercy."

"You did your research," Kiyoshi said plainly.

"We learned it in History class."

Of course.

Unexpectedly, Keima passed the ball to him. "Show me yours."

"W-what?" Kiyoshi stammered confusedly. "I-It's not that great. It's incomplete too."

"It doesn't matter," Keima urged.

Ugh, soon his smile will drop.

". . .Okay. Don't be dissappointed." Kiyoshi passed the ball back, explaining as it flew, "it's a block hissatsu."

"Nice. What do I have to do?" Keima stopped before Kiyoshi who moved back a few steps.

"Just dribble towards me."

"Gotcha." Kiyoshi observed Keima's pace intently, legs moving at a nostalgic pace and threw himself to the ground in a straight line.

"Killer Slide!"

Keima fell to the ground with a thud. For an instant, the thought he had been hurt crossed Kiyoshi's mind. Before he knew it, he was beside the fallen boy. "Are you okay? Sorry for not telling about the fall." He extended a hand which Keima took gratefully.

"It's cool. I was taken off guard." He was fighting back a grunt, but his smile sent a reassuring wave of relief on Kiyoshi. "Hey, isn't that technique Teikoku's? It's kind of different though."

Kiyoshi nodded. "They don't teach it to anyone but I managed to record it and practiced on my own."

"That's awesome!" Keima lit up with excitement like Hachi-dan.

"Uhn, but it's not complete. It's not a big deal, Keima."

"Of course it is a big deal!" Keima slapped Kiyoshi's shoulders. "You are learning it on your own, right? That's amazing! You know hissatsus aren't learned in a day."

"Y-yeah but--"

"It's awesome!"

"O-okay." Kiyoshi looked away, his face heating up. It did take him a few weeks to get somewhere. But then it's been a year he has been learning it. Self-studying can only get you so far.

***

They went on for a few hours, and before long, the sky was tinted orange.

The two fell to the ground panting heavily. Keima was the first to regain his breath, retorting as he checked his phone, "Crap, I should have been home two hours ago."

Kiyoshi tried to recall what he said to Mother with the least effort, giving up a second later. Well, it was pretty late already. He was going to get yelled at one way or another. His clothes were smeared with dirt after all.

"Then let's call it a day," Kiyoshi said standing up before holding out his hand.

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired." Keima dusted off his butt, walking off the park, ball in hand.

"Wait, I'm going to drink some water." Kiyoshi jogged to the water fountain and satiated his thirst. It seemed Keima was just as thirsty, taking a few minutes to jug down the water before they were on the sidewalk to their respective houses.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Keima asked nonchalantly.

"Eh? Don't mind me." Dinner would be ready soon, and his mother didn't like to waste food.

"Are you sure? You don't look like you want to go home yet."

Kiyoshi stopped. He held his breath and asked quietly, eyes set on the ground, "Do I? Do I really look like I don't want to go home?"

"Yeah," Keima answered plainly. "You can call your mom from my house."

Kiyoshi shook his head, the energy he had shown on the field was gone. Reality always waited at the end of the dream. "I have a cell phone." He took the device from his pocket and messaged his mother that Keima invited him over to dinner. A pang of sadness hit his chest imagining his mother eating alone.

"So. . ." Keima trailed, "What have you been doing?"

He was startled at the question. Kiyoshi scratched his neck as he built an answer. "I entered in Technology club after failing the tryouts. Sometimes, I go to observe the soccer team's practice. In class. . ." Kiyoshi glanced at Keima who had gone quiet.

"In class?" Keima asked without a hint of wanting to talk over. He was properly listening to him. Again, a feeling of defeat crept to his heart, causing to be unexplainably bitter.

". . . It's not that fun, I guess." He wasn't sure if Keima would judge him for willingly separating himself from his class. It wasn't like back then, he had taken precautions to extinguish every flame of bullying against him.

"Ah!" Kiyoshi perked up, remembering a topic they had in common back then, "I started playing MMORPGs too."

He found meaning in Keima's eyes. "I have played once or twice, a few friends are into that."

"It's fun, in particular, the strategies. I like the graphics and the maps but what I like best is the different kinds of soldiers you can train and the fight itself."

"Aw." Keima sighed. "I don't have a laptop so I can't play with you. It sounds super fun when you put it that way."

"We can play in the library," Kiyoshi offered bashfully.

Keima accepted, surprised the public library allowed the public to use the computers freely.

Kiyoshi announced with pride he had installed the software in one of them.

"Yoshii has gone to the dark side," Keima teased, poking him with his elbow and the two joined in laughter.


	5. Piercing The Cloud Part 4

As Kiyoshi entered Keima's house for the second time, he shook the cloud that threatened to settle when he got an answer from his mother.

They went up to Keima's room and leisurely played a few rounds of a racing game until they were called to eat.

"Itadakimasu." Four voices echoed, Keima's father having arrived when they were coming down.

Kiyoshi munched on a steamed potato and suppressed a moan. The thin, hard skin balanced with the soft inside melted in his mouth.

"It's so good~"

He heard a female chuckle and snapped out of his trance, looking down at his dinner as Keima's mom thanked for the compliment.

Dinner went on, Kiyoshi preferring to savor the food rather than participate in the warm chatter Keima started. After all, it wasn't often he ate at someone else's house, and part of him wished this wasn't the last time. His mother's food tasted bland at home, but when he was forced into social gatherings at her workplace, it was heaven. Especially the sweets. Oh, the sweets.

"Oh my, are you enjoying my food that much, Kiyoshi-kun?" Keima's mom asked.

Kiyoshi blushed at the thought he was making a funny face. "Ah-um-I-I am enjoying it. . ." Kiyoshi nodded to assert his answer as truthful. It was really tasty.

"My cooking is nothing compared to Sayuri-san's so I'm happy you like it," she said in an honest manner. However, there was sadness underneath, as if she would never be able to compete against his mother. Could the cooking of a housewife compare to the cooking of a professional chef? He couldn't answer and it saddened him.

Keima, as if to dispel the gloomy mood, praised her mother's cooking to be the best, and his father soon followed.

Kiyoshi turned away, his eating pace slowing. Was it him or he was the cause of the problem in the first place? As his mother's son, he carried her reputation, her name, and everything she stood up for. That was the cause of the woman's anguish. Again, he was aware what it meant to be his mother's son: the poison that withered the flowers around him.

***

It was seven p.m., and Kiyoshi had accepted to stay over for tea. Although coffee was his daily fuel, he liked both: coffee was his hook to reality when he had to stay overnight for homework, a reminder he was growing up, and a link to his father who adored the drink; tea, on the other hand, was more like his mother: elegant and serious.  He relaxed over a cup as if drinking washed off his fatigue.

"Thank you," Kiyoshi said to Keima's mother who smiled gratiously, and went to rinse the cup and saucer. His mood had improved, a small smile blossoming on his lips.

When Kiyoshi turned, he found Keima staring questioningly from the table. True, it would be rude to throw him out, Kiyoshi thought. Actually, he didn't want leave yet but asking to stay over out of the blue was just as rude.

"Keima, what about a game? Do you mind, Kiyoshi-kun?" Keima's father asked, putting his cup down. He was a thin man, pepper hair styled back and giving a pleasant image of a homely father, if not older than most. Kiyoshi hadn't talked with him as much as Keima's mother. He didn't know much about him either, but he was Keima's influence for his love for shoji and he was the one who named him after a shogi piece, the knight.

Kiyoshi shook his head. "Go ahead." It was a weekly event at the Kirishima household and he didn't have the right to interrupt. Although he couldn't deny any game where strategizing was involved interested him. It might help him understand Kidou-san a bit more.

He watched the game in awe. Keima had improved. His moves had more thought put into them, and he could predict his father's two steps forward. Perhaps he would win this time.

After a whole hour, the winner was decided.

Keima threw his head on the table and groaned. "I was so close this time!"

Kiyoshi chuckled, comfortable in the homely ambiance of the house while laying his head on the cold wood. "GG (Good game)."

He made an effort to tilt his head at Keima's strange sideway glance as if the loss hadn't affected him.

The board was put away, and Keima's father left with a victorious smile.

"Yoshii," Keima said quietly, his voice firm and determined. He took his hand and pulled him to the porch. Kiyoshi's instincts told him it was a serious talk, something he didn't want his parents to interrupt and hear. It was a privilege to listen to Keima's troubles, for he lies through his teeth to convince you he's fine.

"We have to talk," he said without looking at him in the eye. His back looked lonely under the white streetlights, and Kiyoshi remembered Keima's happiness was an illusion. Not exactly, Keima is a happy person in the literal sense, but keeping that happiness meant shoving his troubles in a closet and forget about them.

So when he used that tone, Kiyoshi had to reciprocate. Even if his stomach was tied in a knot, even if he was shaking. The issue Keima was going to bring up. . . he was related to it.

"Okay." He sat on the small porch. Hachi-dan read the mood and laid beside him to ease his anxiety, quietly gazing between him and Keima. Kiyoshi had many reasons to love that dog, and this was one. Hachi-dan didn't pick sides. He was here for both.

Keima continued to look down deep in thought; it was a first.

"Our relationship back then. . . was unbalanced," he started. "I was overprotective and forced you to do things you didn't want to. I used you to fill the role Kin left. I was scared to be alone, to not be needed. I made you need me so you wouldn't leave me. You were right, I'm selfish. I don't help people for the sake of goodness or humility, but because it fulfills me." Keima chuckled hollowly as if admitting the void in his heart. "I'm a selfish knight."

Kiyoshi frowned, unable to meet Keima's eyes. Following the knight code was Keima's moral guide. It had been so since they before met. He had followed it like a religion until Kiyoshi came, destroying everything: back then when he told Keima to end his life, and gave him a convincing reason to do so, Kiyoshi mocked his choice of letting him live because he was scared to be alone again, not because he actually cared. It was against Keima's code to let someone who had hurt so many live. But the knight had failed to slay the dragon.

Kiyoshi's past and present opinions were in conflict, the truth he slapped Keima with, and the possibility he was wrong. But he was given an answer. It was the truth. Kirishima Keima was a person who is good because people reward goodness. But, Kiyoshi thought, is that kind of selfishness wrong?

"It is that bad that you help others because it makes you happy?" he asked timidly.

Keima looked at him, confused.

He felt a lump in his throat and lifted his head. "You are doing something for others, isn't fulfillment an acceptable compensation? It would be unfair if you get nothing from it, you know? And. . . you would help anyone, right? That much sacrifice needs an equal compensation."

Keima didn't have to fight off his bullies. He could have ignored him like everyone else.

Keima looked at the far wall. "A knight is selfless. He helps because it's the right thing, not because he expects compensation. What I'm doing is matching the compensation with the job itself." His voice steeled, making Kiyoshi doubt he was talking to his best friend. "I'm cheating."

"Then, are you going to give up?!" Kiyoshi's voice escalated.

Keima trembled, his face twisting in pain and remorse.

Kiyoshi gasped softly, a stake piercing his chest. He was always the one who put salt into the wound.

"What am I supposed to do?!" Keima yelled, "I'm a failure as a knight. Kin will never forgive me."

Kiyoshi gritted his teeth, unable to answer.

Keima hid his face in his hands. "Anyway, that's not what I want to talk to you about," he said, trying to act unfazed when he made an effort to control his emotions.

Kiyoshi gulped, caught red-handed, and averted his eyes for a second, then meeting Keima's intense gaze as if scrutinizing him.

". . . What I want to talk is about our past relationship." The topic was set, and there was no running away.

"O-okay." Kiyoshi's hands went cold, and he petted Hachi-dan for comfort.

He had done his own thinking, realizing their relationship was a mess. Kiyoshi was always the one who caused trouble, and Keima would forgive him. As Keima just admitted, he couldn't let go because he needed him. He would forgive everything and welcome him with open arms.

Naturally, Kiyoshi returned this time. The red oni had to be fed directly. Even if Keima was a sacrifice and would be hurt, even if he was being used likewise, Kiyoshi didn't stop himself. He used the last of his strength to push him away and end it for good, but Keima called, wasting his efforts and sealing his fate.

"We have to change a few things." Kiyoshi was pulled away from his head at the sudden proclamation. "I promised I wouldn't treat you as Kin anymore, so I won't overprotect you or force you to do things you don't want--"

"Wait, you weren't forcing me. If I didn't want to follow, I wouldn't have!"

"Do you think it's normal that I have to pull you around everywhere?! You would stay at home the whole day if I didn't go to get you, Kiyoshi!" Keima glared at him, making the hairs on Kiyoshi stood on an end.

It was scary. Keima was scary. This whole conversation scared him. Was that the way Kiyoshi looked at his opponents on the field, a mere look making them whimper in fear?

"I-I-I-" Tears started to well on the corners of his eyes. ". . .I'm sorry," he said between hiccups, quickly cleaning away the stream of tears as they warped his vision.

"Ah-no, I didn't mean. . ." Keima took a tissue from his pocket and reached out to his face, but stopped and extended it reluctantly. "Take it."

Keima was serious; his actions backed up his words. He would let Kiyoshi free. He would no longer stand in front of him, both protecting and covering him from the cruel world.

"I'm sorry for being happy thinking it was okay to be weak." Kiyoshi's words shook along with his body and he looked down in shame. "I have changed too." He took Keima's outstretched hand and pushed it back. "Thanks."

Keima returned the tissue to his pocket. "So we agree we have changed and have to change." There were so many 'change' in that sentence Kiyoshi wondered if he was being hypnotized. But Keima's vocabulary was limited, he told himself.

"Yeah, so many things have happened over the past year. But bad habits die hard." He chuckled.

Keima ruffled Kiyoshi's head. It was a dog kind of ruffling, messing up Kiyoshi's gold hair in a playful manner. "I won't change this." He gestured to the open hand that was between Kiyoshi's locks. "If you are worried about that." Keima's features fell the next moment. "Sorry for scaring you."

Kiyoshi shook his head and smiled weakly.

Keima continued. "I used to cut you off a lot, and never listened until you got angry." His voice lowered. "How can I. . . makeup all my past faults? I'll do anything." He wasn't joking. Anything was extreme, but he wasn't joking.

"I-I'm sorry for the way I acted back then. I was condescending and cocky. I pissed off a lot of people." Kiyoshi glanced inside the empty house. Keima was particular about envy. "I hurt you a lot of times, but you always welcomed me back. . . . Where those times. . . like this one. . . because you. . . need me?"

There was a slight hesitation in Keima's eyes. Kiyoshi was venturing into a prohibited territory, but if they were best friends, he should. . .

"I need you, not as Kin, as my best friend. You were always there in that month. I didn't reach out because I wanted you to fill that void, but to. . ." He looked down, his cheeks slightly tinted. ". . . Comple-I mean be happy. Yeah, that's it! Be happy together and share fun times. Be true friends." He nodded as if to convince himself.

But Kiyoshi heard it loud and clear. He completed Keima. His heart fluttered like a bird taking flight and his stomach was warm. Kiyoshi nodded. Likewise, Keima filled him, and that made him happy. He could never have enough of him. Perhaps they had natural chemistry--they were a pretty good combo in the field too--once he opened up to him, and their talks flowed naturally. Although there was tinkering to be done, their roles didn't change much because their cores were the same.

"True friends then." Kiyoshi grinned cheekily.

Keima relaxed, his eyes returning to that gentle gaze that took him to the past. However, they held a certain determination, and as he looked closer, hurt.

"Kei," Kiyoshi said softly, mind numbed with a new pleasure he found somewhat familiar. Perhaps the remnants of his feelings for him back then.

"Yeah?"

"Will you forgive me? Whenever I hurt someone I care about, I also get hurt." Kiyoshi blinked, the floor dyed in light became focused. "It hurts so much I hate myself."

"The scars won't leave," Keima said reluctantly. Kiyoshi's heart sank, but he accepted the answer. Of course, the consequences of his actions were grave enough to scar him for life. His sins were that deep. "But I can live with them, as long as we do things right." He smiled.

Kiyoshi's eyes fell. "The last time you promised with 'as long as', you got angry at me when I asked Itsuki for help." He understood change wasn't easy. They will make mistakes, but they were trying their best. They had to cover for each other.

Keima gasped. "That's true. I didn't notice at all. Then. . . I'll live with those scars." He nodded to himself.

"You know, it's very knight-y to mend your mistakes from the past." Kiyoshi gave him a genuine smile. "Even if you stray from the path, you have the right to try again."

Keima had said something similar to him. Kiyoshi had asked the reason he didn't kill him, and bursted into tears when Keima replied despite his sins he had the right to be happy.

Keima beamed and stood up, his vigor returning as if it never left. "That's true! I can't waver! Thanks, Yoshii."

Kiyoshi nodded, patting Hachi-dan. "Thanks for backing me up, Hachi-dan," he whispered when Keima entered the house. "I'll do my best."

He promised himself to mend his past mistakes in their relationship. But nothing was perfect, there were things he would always hold against Keima. Like the warm house and his optimism. In reality, Keima was the one who was right most of the time. Kiyoshi forced the harsh truths, hurting both parties.


	6. Piercing The Clouds Part 5

Kiyoshi walked back into the house and tapped Keima's shoulder who was gulping down a glass of water. "I'm going back home. Thanks for inviting me over."

Keima nodded. "Do you mind if go with you? . . .Half-way."

Kiyoshi gave him a look, unsure if he was holding himself back from protecting him on his way home or because he missed him. He opted for the former. "Sure."

Keima left the glass in the sink."I have to walk Hachi-dan."

Ah, of course. Kiyoshi felt his cheeks heat up. He missed the target horribly.

Glancing at the small altar near the ceiling, he locked eyes with the little boy in the picture after so long. Kirishima Kinshou and him were different people, no matter what they said.

***

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes. It had been so long since he had shared a moment with someone who cared for him. He looked up at the stars. They seemed brighter than usual.

"I had fun."

Keima smiled. "What else have you been up to?"

Kiyoshi wished Keima would be quieter, but part of him accepted this was part of his personality. He recalled the most recent events, his mind coming to an abrupt stop when the Coach's smug grin of flashed.

"Yoshii? What's wrong?"

Kiyoshi exhaled slowly as if his energy left his body through his lips. "There was something. I was depressed this morning because of that." He couldn't turn to Keima, his courage would leave him if he did.

"I can listen. . . if you want." It probably wasn't Keima's intention to sound indifferent when he used to be forceful about revealing his issues.

Kiyoshi looked at his feet. The tips of his sneakers were dirty. It was the only pair he used, his favorites. "I'll. . . be transferred to Kidokawa. To spy the soccer team. The Coach said if I do a good job, he will open tryouts for the second team when I get back." He brought his eyes to Keima slowly, taking in the effort he put into digesting each word.

"I heard the rumor Teikoku used spies during the Football Frontier, but I didn't believe it until now."

Kiyoshi nodded, affirming it was very real. There a slight hesitation in making an excuse for himself.

"So that's why you said you were going to try again," Keima said wistfully. "It's obvious you would take any chance you get."

Kiyoshi opened his mouth and promptly closed it. He was unsure if he had to apologize, and gazed at Keima's troubled expression.

". . .Good luck."

Kiyoshi nodded, wondering if Keima was judging him silently. The air between tensed. He could tell Keima was troubled how to respond.

"I made it a habit to look at the soccer club's practice."

"Oh, that's amazing," Keima said plainly. He was terrible at feigning.

"The Coach found out and I got in trouble," Kiyoshi murmured.

Keima nodded and broke into a smile. "I get it." Nothing more needed to be said.

''U-Um, w-which school did you go again?" he said with a hint of apology.

"Tengawara!" Keima answered perkly. "It's nice, save from the fact it's impossible to go to the Nationals." He shrugged.

Unsurprisingly, it was a name unfamiliar to him. The only school he cared enough to remember that had a reputation in Kanto and the soccer world was Teikoku. Funnily, Kiyoshi had the brains to enter an elite school but lacked the talent to for the soccer team, and Keima was the opposite.

Take soccer from Keima, and he's just an optimistic, selfish idiot, take it from Kiyoshi, and he's dead.

"What's so funny?" Keima tilted his head.

Kiyoshi said amusedly, "I was just thinking I can make it to Teikoku but not the team, while you can make it to the team but not Teikoku."

Keima laughed wholeheartedly. "I would never be able to pass that monstrous exam. Never in a million years," he said while cleaning his eyes.

"It was horrible. I don't want to take it ever again," Kiyoshi said with a smile.

Keima's school life was sure to be fun and exciting. He probably had more than a few friends, and the teachers would like him. He wasn't the boisterous type but cheerful and outgoing on the calm side, as if the balance was forced into him to be the perfect target of envy. He dreaded the thought of Keima being happy without him when his life at Teikoku was empty and dull.

"How is it. . . at Tengawara?" Kiyoshi asked.

Keima shrugged, perhaps sensing his discomfort. "It's cool, take out the gossipers."

"Are there a lot?"

Keima crossed his arms in thought, changing Hachi-dan's collar to his left hand. "It's different from Setagaya Elementary. They care enough to gossip and act like idiots."

Kiyoshi nodded. He understood Keima's vague statement. There was a girl who was fairly disliked in his class, and the girls, with their keen noses, always found things to criticize her about behind her back. They obviously weren't friends and didn't care to help her when she was troubled. It was like they cared about her mistakes, but not the person herself.

"It's weird."

"I'm sure I can handle it better starting on Monday. Hachi-dan needs to run." Keima started trotting, leaving Kiyoshi mildly confused, but shoved the thought aside as Keima didn't seem to care about it.

Ten minutes later, they reached Kiyoshi's house and stood outside the door.

Kiyoshi took out his key and unlocked the door. "Do you want to come inside? Mother asked me why you hadn't come over a few times," he asked.

"Oh, sure." Keima fixed his hair and inhaled as if preparing mentally preparing for something unpleasant.

Kiyoshi asked to take Hachi-dan's collar and tied it to a small bush as Keima entered. Gardening was his mother's hobby so their backyard was pretty and well-maintained despite their low-income. He patted the dog's head and hugged him, allowing his anxiety to calm down. Animals had this power to ease people, and dogs and cats were common pets to have as therapy animals. He usually petted as many cats he found on his way home, making the hand clenching his heart let go little by little. The thought of home made him uncomfortable, even if Keima came with him. It will come back stronger when he left, but he knew how to handle it, or he had just grown used to it.

He let his thoughts wander to the two cats in the small abandoned park. Tomorrow was a good day to visit them, after finishing his appointed chores and homework. He ruffled Hachi-dan's head one last time and kissed him on the cheek, chuckling as the dog started to lick him.

"Thanks." He stood up and entered the house with slow steps, closing the door behind him with a click. "I'm home. . ."

Keima was nowhere to be seen. The living room was empty but bright, so was the hall. He called out to Keima when he heard a voice coming from the lit kitchen and entered, finding him talking to his mother. He locked eyes with her momentarily and made a quiet greeting, receiving cold one as he sat beside Keima who had become silent but quickly brought up another topic.

With this, his mother would be reassured he was friends with Keima. She had probably put two and two together when Keima visited daily after they fought.

Kiyoshi preferred to be outside playing with Hachi-dan instead of silently listening to their shallow conversation.

A few minutes later, Keima excused himself  with that polite smile he always he gave to the adults he wasn't at ease with, but social norms dictated respect for the elder to his mother.

"Thanks for coming." Kiyoshi waved at Keima who was tying the blue collar around his hand.

"Same. See you."

Keima seemed cold in the strangest moments. But he wasn't fond of goodbyes, neither before and now. He gazed at Keima's back retreat and turn to follow the road. They had each other's number so they could meet whenever they want. Kiyoshi wasn't in a hurry, even when part of him wanted to make plans with him for tomorrow. Then, he remembered Keima had the worst memory for promises, which was surprising because he never forgot the truly important ones.


	7. Box of Dreams

"Why are your clothes dirty?" Kiyoshi gasped at his mother's cold question as he entered the house, then gazed at the wooden floor, his bangs covering his astonished expression.

He told his mother he would give up soccer over dinner about five months ago. She taunted him to throw away his soccer belongings if he was serious, but all Kiyoshi could muster was stuffing them in a box and pushing it into the closet to gather dust. That was supposed to be the end of his dream.

"You were playing soccer, weren't you?" Kiyoshi imagined his mother crossing her arms in a disapproving manner, the shadow of her towering figure increasing the familiar, overbearing pressure between them.

Kiyoshi couldn't deny her words; he couldn't lie to his own mother. He pressed his back against the cold door, sending a shudder through his body, and nodded.

"Didn't you say weren't playing anymore?"

His head lowered further in a gesture of forgiveness, pressing his back deeper to hold himself steady as his legs trembled. This wasn't the norm for him, his mother asking a personal question that is. She usually hissed orders or comments that made Kiyoshi bite his lip and double his self-hatred and shame.

His mother would follow with criticism: he was too indecisive; he was a liar; or he was too attached when he didn't have the talent for it. To her, playing soccer was a waste of time unless he pursued it seriously, but after his second failure, she was dead set that it had no future in his son's life.

But there was silence. Kiyoshi took a shaky breath, filling his lungs with courage and lifted his eyes.

"I-I want to keep playing soccer!"

"What?!" His mother shrieked, her thin arms falling to her side and gave Kiyoshi a glare.

He inhaled sharply and repeated, his voice firm, crumbling at the end."I want to keep playing soccer!"

She took a step forward, a vein popping on her left temple. "Are you out of your mind! Get it through your head, soccer is not the only thing that matters!" She yelled loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but as far Kiyoshi knew, no one had ever come to complain.

Kiyoshi squeezed his eyes shut, his heart hammering against his chest. His voice lowered, holding his determination, "It has to be soccer! It can't be anything else!"

"The coach said you have no talent for it! You failed the tryouts twice in a row, you clearly aren't cut for it!"

Kiyoshi shook his head desperately, denying the words he wanted to hear the least. "NO! NO! I wanna play!" He was a failure, talentless, but he loved soccer. He loved it so much. His muscles were free from the tension of his everyday life when he was kicking the ball and laughing as he fought with Keima. And at long last, he felt in control over himself as he dribbled down the pitch. He couldn't find that freedom at home and school, only the soccer field.

"Let go of those childish dreams and look at reality, you foolish boy! You can't even keep your grades and you want to be among the best? That's not even good enough for a joke," she said, her words dripping venom, "Give up. That is not your place."

"No, I will continue playing soccer!"

Even if the Coach had pressured him, he reached out and took the chance to play again with his own hands. He wasn't truly living if he didn't kick a soccer ball. It was his air, and a replacement of his lost wing that allowed him to temporarily fly.

There was silence, Kiyoshi's ragged breathing echoing in solitude. He peeked at his mother from behind his bangs. They hadn't had a proper conversation in years, so he wasn't sure what she would do next.

But his mother's figure distorted as hot tears fell from his cheeks, blinding him completely.

"If you can't even keep a simple promise, how do you expect to make it to the world?" Her voice sounded calm, but he felt her intense gaze as if measuring his decision. "You are have always been indecisive."

". . . I won't change my mind," he said between stray hiccups.

Between the broken fragments of his sight, his mother turned her back to him as if rejecting his words. His heart twisted at the familiar scene. His mother disliked when her orders weren't fulfilled or ignored.

"Do what you want. Do not come to me when you fail. I taught you to take responsibility for your own mistakes. And clean your face, it's unsightly."

Kiyoshi did as she said, but the tears didn't stop, and his head started to throb. There was no more acceptance from his mother like when she commented he could finally focus on his studies instead of soccer, only disinterest and apathy. He was alone in this, again.

He refrained from breaking down in sobs at his mother's clear rejection and let his butt fall to the floor, relieved that her steps were fading away. He just had to focus on stopping the tears or his mother would make another comment anytime soon.

"What are you doing there?" His mother cut through his thoughts. "If you are serious about it, then do something about that box."

Kiyoshi lifted his head and tried to follow his mother's lifted finger. The closet door was open. He looked back at his mother swiftly then at the floor between his legs. His mind was hazy but he obeyed. He had learned to use half of his consciousness for measly chores.

Pulling out the sealed cardboard filled with his memories, feelings and love came back to him in a flash: when the coach took a picture of him and Keima lifting the trophy, the soccer uniform that fit him perfectly and allowed him to move the way he wanted, and the soccer ball he kicked when he went to the small park to practice on weekends.

It was then that he realized that even in the deepest, darkest moment, he couldn't give up what had saved him. It was his core, his essence. He hugged the box like the stray calico cat he cuddled in his secret place, forgetting his mother's presence for a fleeting moment, and a smile peeked on his face as he gazed at the box lovingly.

He ignored his mother's presence as he passed by and climbed the stairs to his room.

"It's impossible, isn't it? For me to not play soccer," he whispered to himself in the comfortable solitude of his room. There was a warm sensation in his stomach, and he knew exactly what it was. Chuckling gleefully , traces of his previous sadness and misery were steadily replaced by joy and contentment.

Kiyoshi spent a few hours putting back the items from the box while humming, nodding in satisfaction at his room adorned with posters of soccer players, a set of soccer-themed bed covers, and a cheap-looking soccer ball-shaped rug.

Kiyoshi's face had no trace of hesitation to fulfill his mission. He would do what he had to do for the sake of playing soccer on stage again, even if meant temporarily becoming a tool.


	8. Red-tinted Glasses

Kiyoshi fiddled with the edge of his sleeve as he stuttered a greeting to the goggled boy, his voice echoing in the empty soccer field. His heart, filled with joy and embarrassment about to overflow, tinted his cheeks the color of the boy's cape draped over his shoulder.

Soccer practice had just ended. The boy emanated a distinct smell of sweat mixed with an expensive cologne that prickled his nose, zapping a pleasant shudder through his spine. Kidou-san was close, so close he could finally touch him. But the contact would break the boy's image of an unreachable being. He took a shaky breath and lifted his head, facing the boy who had seen through him, noticed it.

"We should sit down," the boy said, making his way to the bleachers with a formal air. Kiyoshi nodded blissfully, inadvertently bringing a hand to his hair and stopped short at the memory of fixing it just moments ago before promptly stalking after his idol.

They sat at a comfortable distance, yet Kiyoshi's heart whispered to close in. Don't let this chance go. Learn more about the boy behind the stoic expression, about his fears and dreams.

There was something personal and secret about meeting in a field after school. Not a glimpse of the spy life; it was a sense of blind trust between them, who were less than acquaintances. Like strangers with a name.

Snapping out of his stupor at the sight of a bundle of papers extended to him, Kiyoshi took the documents and thanked the boy. Kidou-san began explaining his mission, reading over a single sheet of paper with the focus of an athlete in the zone.

His first mission was to study Fire Tornado, Gouenji Shuuya's A.K.A. Kidokawa Seishuu's captain, hissatsu technique.

Kiyoshi skimmed through the papers with trembling fingers, peeking at Kidou-san from the corner of his eyes through his red-rimmed glasses. There was no way Kidou-san remembered what he said during the tryouts, Kiyoshi told himself, he had other nine people in command. Nevertheless, those words were a direct acknowledgment, proof of his existence. The goggled boy had cared enough to watch his plays, realized he was hiding something, and reprimanded him. The memory made his face heat up, arousing something he couldn't label, something between bliss and gratefulness that made his heart bang incessantly against his chest. He lowered his sight to Gouenji Shuuya's profile, absentmindedly staring at the white spaces between the paragraphs.

"Don't let anyone see those documents. Burn them once finish reading them over." Kidou-san's forehead wrinkled, a bent finger setting over his thin lips as if brooding. The boy's skin was slightly tan, perhaps smooth to the touch. From that distance, Kiyoshi could count the boy's beauty marks and sunburns, even trace them with his fingers if he reached out.

Kidou-san continued explaining the rest of the details about Kiyoshi's status in Kidokawa. He was in Mukata Tsutomu, Mukata Masaru, and Mukata Momo's class; it was up to him how to make use of them. He had plenty of freedom, but that didn't change the fact he was a tool.

"I don't have much to tell about how to do your work. But you mustn't get caught," Kidou-san warned with concern.

Kiyoshi nodded, not quite sure what else to say.

The boy frowned, turning to him. "Give me your report as soon as it is done. I will give you your next mission after that." He added, "Things might change at any moment. Be ready for anything."

"Yes."

Kidou-san raised his head, fixing his tinted goggles at him. Kiyoshi contemplated what color hid behind them. Were they pretty? Perhaps they were a glossy brown or a polished black?

". . . Any questions?"

Kiyoshi shook his head and replied softly as if talking to a dear friend, "Not in particular. I have to get my head around everything."

The briefing lasted another hour, Kiyoshi alternating between catching the boy's explanation and carving his features in an eternal portrait in his mind. They would see each other again the following week, but this moment would last a second.

Kidou-san closed the meeting by saying to contact him in an emergency. After packing his belongings, he threw his cape over his shoulder in a smooth movement. Kiyoshi couldn't take his eyes off the goggled boy. The uniform fitted him nicely, giving him a stoic, charming aura like the captain of a battalion. A sigh escaped from the boy's thin lips, vulnerable and innocent, waiting for the right pair to gift its first touch.

Marveled at the sight, Kiyoshi's desire died down like a baby falling asleep. This was enough, he thought, drowning in the warmth of his increasing feelings. Kidou-san lived in a world he wasn't welcomed. He was average at most, and Kidou-san was a genius, touching him seemed like a sacrilege. Avarice was anything more than passive observation.

"I have heard a few things about you, Ryuugamine-san," Kidou-san said, smirking.

With his backpack in place, Kiyoshi froze. "U-Um, w-what kind of things?" he replied in a polite way. He was older, but their relationship was purely soccer-related. If seniority was established through experience, Kidou-san would obviously be better.

"Things about your soccer."

The tension sucked back into Kiyoshi's body. He looked down, his bangs covering his eyes.

"Is that why you chose Teikoku?" the boy continued.

Kiyoshi lifted his eyes, inhaling sharply. "W-What do you mean?"

"Your soccer is similar to Teikoku's," he said plainly with a raised eyebrow, walking out of the field.

Kiyoshi quickly caught up, always a step behind him. ". . . No, that's not why I chose to come here," he replied in his usual quiet voice. It wasn't the decisive factor. However, in his heart, he didn't contradict the boy's last words.

Perhaps realizing Kiyoshi's apprehension, Kidou-san retreated his smirk, carrying on their way to the school entrance in heavy silence. Now he had done it.

"Kidou-san. . ." Kiyoshi said softly.

"Yes?"

He hesitated. "Will the Coach keep his promise?" Kiyoshi had heard Kidou-san was close to the Coach. If there's anyone who knew the answer, it was him.

After enough time passed to convince Kiyoshi the boy had chosen to ignore the question, he answered, "I'm not sure. As long you don't betray him and Teikoku wins, the Commander should give what he promised."

Kiyoshi nodded meekly, his steps booming in the hollow hallway which seemed brighter than usual. Actually, after speaking with the Coach, he saw the school in a new light. It was this dull building where, in its darkest corners, people sealed dirty deals.

"If you knew how to use your talent, the Commander would have offered you to come to Teikoku," the boy commented, "You will fail the tryouts again if you don't come to terms with your style."

Kiyoshi stopped, gazing at the boy breathless. "You. . . remember." He glanced at the sides, confirming they were still alone. ". . . You. . . know?"

Kidou-san's grin grew to his characteristic smirk, as if he finally got the reaction he wanted, sucking the air out of Kiyoshi as he squealed in his mind. "I have to admit I am a bit impressed."

Kiyoshi couldn't help but frown, his earlier excitement plummeted down to bits, hoping the boy didn't take it as a sign of aggression but confusion. He hurt people for no reason. To others, that is. Kidou-san couldn't understand his motive and actions or could he?

"I didn't imagine you were hiding that type of power. However, I have to agree with the Commander. It's too dangerous for Teikoku if you can't control it."

Kiyoshi stood reticent, unable to reply at the truth. That was the second step. The time constraint just added to his uneasiness.

The entrance got nearer. Light, peeking from the far end, was the finish line signal.

"What lies for you at the end, Ryuugamine-san?" the boy asked casually.

Kiyoshi lifted his eyes with difficulty. "I don't know. If it's success or failure, I have no way of knowing."

Kidou-san fixed his cape. "That is not what I mean. I was asking after your job is over. What do you want to do after entering the soccer team?"

Kiyoshi felt a pull at the heartstrings. He struggled to speak, took a deep breath, and confessed in a small, bashful voice, silently praying the boy wouldn't criticize his dream.

"I-I want to become a pro. . ."

Kidou-san hummed, amused. "If you pass the tryout and apply for the varsity team, you can take part in the Football Frontier. A lot scouts from all over the world watch over it."

Kiyoshi gasped. "There's another test?!"

The boy raised his eyebrow and nodded. "You also need the Commander and the captain's approval to enter the varsity team from the reserve team."

"Yes, understood." Kiyoshi made a genuine, warm smile. "Thank you very much, Kidou-san." It was more than he could ask. Kidou-san dispelled the dark mist that blinded him, showing Kiyoshi a glimpse of hope. It was at that moment that a familiar flutter in his stomach set his feelings for the boy.

"Then, I will be waiting, Ryuugamine-san." Kidou-san shifted towards a black car parked beside the road as the sun dipped in the orange sky, giving him a back-wave. "Tame the beast inside you and get its power. Otherwise, you won't get anywhere in the soccer world."

 


	9. Epilogue

"Ryuugamine-kun? Did you decide which club you'll enter?"

"Your stew as amazing! Don't you want to check out the cooking club?"

"Your grades in the previous test were spectacular, why don't you join the Science Club?"

Kiyoshi recoiled at the noisy students swarming his desk. He retracted his arms and averted their gazes, shifty green pants and pleated skirts extending over his sight.

"I don't know yet," he replied to the first question.

"What did you say?" A guy asked curiously.

Startled, Kiyoshi's voice got caught in his throat. He held onto one of his arms, struggling to speak. He had already rejected their invitations, but they kept coming back.

"I-I-I sa-id--" Kiyoshi stuttered, his nails digging into his arms. "I do-don't know. . ."

_Leave me alone. Just leave me alone._

Being the center of the attention meant drowning in the sea, the sea of curious stares that became critical and hateful, and Kiyoshi was running out of breath.

"Hey, hey, I'm sure Ryuugamine-kun still has things to do. Let's give him some space, okay?" Another guy said as he approached, but Kiyoshi refused to look up.

The mob walked away with comments Kiyoshi didn't care to hear. It wasn't until the outline of his desk was completely clear that he let out a soft exhale.

"They are excited someone from Teikoku came to a regular class. . . I'm surprised too."

Kiyoshi tensed and looked up in instinct. It was the guy who pushed the nuisance away.

The guy drawled his neck, jet-black hair framed his face, subtle features twisting in an awkward laugh.

Kiyoshi quickly looked away.

"I don't care," he said.

"Ah-ah. . . yeah."

Kiyoshi stood up and left the classroom, evading all eyes. His face was hot, lips letting out of soft pants. Speaking has always been this hard; being around people shook him to the core.

He heard the same boy call out to him from behind. Kiyoshi, maintaining his pace, reached the guys' toilet and promptly splashed cold water on his face.

Kiyoshi gasped, relaxing his muscles little by little at the sense of solitude. The toilet had been the most peaceful place at school for a while. No one came here often, and they didn't stay for long. Private time between classes was imperative, especially now as Teikoku's blonde transfer student. So many seemed to be all over him.

He wished his western features stopped attracting attention. Any type of attention predisposes him to trouble. No exceptions.

"Hey, I was talking to you!"

Kiyoshi jumped and turned around before frowning at the guy.

"What do you want?" He asked with a flat voice.

The boy visibly flinched and took a step back. "Why are you angry? I was the one who was ignored," he said fearfully.

"And you stalked me to the toilet?" Kiyoshi's face twisted with disgust.

"That. . ." The guy stammered. "That's because you were ignoring me!" he fumed.

Kiyoshi snorted. This guy was stupid.

He took a pair of napkins and dried his face, erasing the guy's worthless presence from his mind. Staring at his complexion in the next mirror, Kiyoshi checked for pimples. The water removed the cream he applied this morning. _Again._

Kiyoshi sighed.

"I just wanted to talk to you. . ." The guy trailed off in a small voice.

"I don't," Kiyoshi replied instantly, throwing the paper in the trash before pushing the door to the hallway.

People will dirty him; he must stay white and pure.

It was a promise to himself he musn't break.

***

"How's Kidokawa?" Keima asked rather coldly, staring at the library's computer screen. They had installed a game in the next PC moments before. Sounds from a heated battle whispered from both computers.

Kiyoshi brought his eyes back to his own on-going fight.

"As good as it can be,"he replied. Which means, not much.

Keima knew to not pry into his school's social life. It was practically non-existent.

Transfering to Kidokawa Seishuu wasn't a chance to start over--new year, new me kind of shit--but a chance to grasp his dream. He didn't have time to waste on people who didn't take him there.

Keima was an exception, though.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," his friend commented. "Oh, I leveled up! Which power should I upgrade?"

Kiyoshi peered into Keima's screen. "This one." He tapped the second one and went back to his computer.

"Thanks." Keima clicked.

At the enemy base, Keima's units served as a decoy before Kiyoshi's entered when the enemy was weakened, his primary unit engaging with one of the generals. He had plenty of HP; a hard kill. Kiyoshi's teeth gritted.

"Did you speak with Kidou?" Keima asked, breaking through his intense focus.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Kiyoshi yelled frantically, heart going overdrive at the sudden image of the googled boy. "He's gonna kill me! He's gonna kill me!" he shrieked, struggling to defeat the enemy with heated clicks.

Keima chuckled. "I got your back. Don't worry." A moment later, his powered up move fell on the general, lowering his bar drastically. "You look kind of happy today."

Kiyoshi grimaced, his face heating up. "I di-did."

"You really like him, don't you?" Keima asked in a casual tone.

Kiyoshi glanced at him before looking at the ground. The general was gone. Their troops were defeating the remaining soldiers and demolishing their buildings.

"Uhn. . ." Kiyoshi was uncertain for a moment. "Don't you think it's odd. . . me liking a guy?"

"Not really," Keima answered. He was always accepting. "It's obvious when you like someone."

Kiyoshi looked up, facing Keima's helpless grin.

"Ah-ah. . ." He froze in place, their gazes connected. "You knew. . ." He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and looked away.

"Yeah. . . I don't mind. You liking me. . . and Kidou now." Keima forced another chuckle.

Kiyoshi listened to his quickened hearbeat. He wondered if Keima meant romantically. His feelings made him looked up to his cool friend, and Keima loved that. No, he used to have a girlfriend. He knows what kind of feelings Kiyoshi harbored.

". . . Thanks for not judging me," Kiyoshi said quietly. Lifting a hand to his face, he would believe he was expelling smoke. "Ugh, my face is so red."

He felt Keima's fingers fiddle with his hair before his clear voice hovered on top of his head. "It's okay."

Kiyoshi blinked. "Kidou-san noticed, you know? The red oni. I wasn't using my full power in the tryouts, and he called me out."

Keima pulled away, evoking a sense of longing for his affectionate petting on Kiyoshi. "I see. . ."

Kiyoshi smiled at him, detaching his sigh from Keima's hand. "He's cool. Kidou-san." He looked down shyly. "I really want to play by his side again."

Keima returned a wistful smile. "You will, Kiyoshi."

***

Kiyoshi fanned with the inside of his shirt as he pulled away from the binoculars, eyes sweaty. He had discovered a suitable spot to spy on the team, but the heat was harsh.

Sitting on the grass, spying behind a bush with a pair of binoculars he got from Keima; he truly seemed like a spy. Kiyoshi completed his first mission and was on standby. Kidou-san praised his analysis, but he wasn't into hissatsus. His were given to him.

Kiyoshi cleaned his face off and looked up. At least the tree provided some cool shade.

After a chug of water, he pushed away a patch of leaves and checked Gouenji's position.

The first year passed two defenders before the ball bounced from and to him, scoring with a powerful kick.

"Gouenji is hella strong," Kiyoshi said, mouth agape. "Stronger than Keima. . . Wow. . . He won't like that, haha."

"Who are you?"

"Wah!" Kiyoshi screamed, the binoculars slipping from his hands as he fell back.

He lifted his gaze at the voice and was met with brilliant violet eyes. Kiyoshi was impressed for a moment--they were a weird bright color--but his world froze he realized the person was a girl.

A girl that at first looked like Arisugawa, eyes that always look up to the blue sky.

Kiyoshi's limbs convulsed. His skin prickled, cold climbing from his fingertips and infecting his body. His senses, shutting down one by one, focused on one sound, short and quick breaths that shifted his consciousness in an out of reality.

She wasn't Arisugawa, and he wasn't as weak as back then. But it was the trauma, the rooted fear that petrified him. Rationality was useless.

"Who are you?" She repeated, her light voice slapping Kiyoshi back to reality.

He looked away. His mind was a mess; unable to register her words, worst reply. He was a little bunny in front of a wild animal.

"You are that transfer student," she continued with an inquiring tone. "Why are you. . . That man sent you," she stated.

Kiyoshi's eyes widen. Hearing the grass shift, he regained the courage to look up.

The girl had turned and was about to go back her way.

His arm twitched. He had to immobilize her. Right at that moment. But the resemblance to that bitch didn't allow him to touch her.

He could only watch helplessly as the girl walked away.

***

A couple of days later, he was called to the Coach's office. There, the girl was presented as his enemy in this stupid farce of a game. To Kiyoshi's surprise, his first mission had been a test, and that he was believed to be the little girl's replacement.

If she hadn't found out.

Blocking out the rest of the conversation, Kiyoshi trembled with anger. The memory of Arisugawa Chika's torment won't leave him, and now this girl was ready to snatch his only hope.

But this time was different, Kiyoshi had a goal to protect. It was evident Sumire Yuu had aged out. Victory was his.

He will do whatever it takes to beat her and stay pure. That was the only thing he couldn't lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It has been a great journey going with Kiyoshi through so many things, and now, seeing him stand up for him, brings me joy and sadness as it means the story's end.
> 
> But that's alright! This is just the beginning! There are some important points I want you guys to keep in mind when you read EAL, take outs from this story, you can call them.
> 
> S U M M A R Y:
> 
> 1\. Ryuugamine Kiyoshi, an asocial student at Teikoku, was offered a chance to apply for the tryouts in Teikoku's reserve team if he spied on Kidokawa Seishuu.
> 
> 2\. Kiyoshi made three promises to himself: keep Keima away from him, give up on soccer, and push away anyone who approaches him, no exceptions. Keeping none of them.
> 
> 3\. Kiyoshi and Keima promised to repair his unbalanced relationship.
> 
> 4\. Keima remains Kiyoshi's only friend.
> 
> 5\. Keima knows Kiyoshi used to have a crush on him, and that he is currently in love with the soon to be Genius Playmaker, Kidou Yuuto.
> 
> 6\. Kiyoshi holds onto his purity, his desire to stay true to himself, as if his life depends on it.
> 
> 7\. Even though he isn't pleased with being the Coach's tool, he accepted the role if it will get him to the top of the soccer world.
> 
> 8\. Sumire Yuu has a strong resemblance to Arisugawa Chika, a girl who tormented him.
> 
> 9\. Keima used Kiyoshi as Kirishima Kin's, Keima's sibling, replacement when they were younger.
> 
> 10\. Kiyoshi dreams of becoming a professional soccer player, and play beside Kidou once again.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING AND SEE YOU IN EYES AND LIES!


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